


Logistic Regression

by CrunchyWrites



Series: Learning on Parameters (aka Caleb Widogast Deserves Nice Things) [3]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series), Critical Role (Wildemount Campaign)
Genre: Being found out, Discovery, Fluff, M/M, Making Out, finding out, it gets a little steamy at one point but nothing big happens, why are molly and caleb the only people with surnames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 09:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14352687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrunchyWrites/pseuds/CrunchyWrites
Summary: Logistic Regression: A predictive analysis used to model relationships between variables.Or: How the rest of the Mighty Nein find out.





	Logistic Regression

Yasha is the first of all of them to notice.

Really, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Molly – Yasha is attentive in her silence, and after their years spent together at the carnival she knows Molly better than anyone, knows Molly better than even he does himself. They’re sitting in a tavern one morning when she notices the change between them, the seven of them clustered around a table that was in no way designed to seat seven people, and Molly finds himself squished in between Caleb and Jester as breakfast is served. They eat and talk and at some point after the plates have been cleared away Molly glances down to notice that, at some point before, during, or after the meal, his and Caleb’s hands had ended up resting on the table just a few short inches away from each other.

Caleb, it seems, doesn’t notice – he’s deep in quiet but animated conversation with Nott, talking about magic or scrolls or something else entirely different that Molly can’t quite make out over the general bustle and noise of the tavern, and Molly can’t help but smile when he looks over at him. The Caleb sitting beside him now is a long call from the Caleb he first met; he’s still quiet, yes, is still prone to bouts of anxiety and fear and social awkwardness and any number of other things that are simply a part of him, but he’s… better. Calmer. He trusts them all more.

He trusts _Molly_ more, and Molly feels his smile widen a little when he thinks that.

Fuck, but he loves this man. He really, really does, to an almost stupid degree, and he almost surprises himself with how little he cares about that. He feels that he should be concerned about the fact that he would do literally anything to make Caleb smile, but he just… isn’t. He loves Caleb, and he wants Caleb to know that he is loved. He wants Caleb to know that he is deserving of love, no matter what he might think.

Molly watches as Nott says something to elicit a soft laugh from Caleb, and feels sunlight flood his bones. Caleb is beautiful like this; with the sunlight staining his hair in copper and amber and bronze he looks almost ethereal, almost other-worldly, almost fey-like in his beauty, and when he tilts his head a little and catches the sun across his face Molly feels his heart squeeze in his chest and thinks to himself, _This man is mine_.

And thinks, _This man loves me_.

It’s incredible. It’s ridiculous. It should not be playing out across Molly’s face for all to see. He shakes himself, schools his expression into something a little less love-struck, and looks away from Caleb just in time to make eye contact with Yasha. She raises a single eyebrow at him and Molly watches as her gaze flickers down, settling on the scant few inches of space between his hand and Caleb’s for the space of a second before flicking back up. She looks at Molly, looks over at Caleb, looks back at Molly, and then gives a tiny, barely noticeable nod.

“Huh,” Yasha says, so quietly that even Molly barely catches it, and then she blinks and seamlessly re-joins the conversation.

She corners Molly not too soon after that. She doesn’t pull him aside, exactly, but she doesn’t have to; she simply looms out of the shadows as he’s making his way down the tavern hall to the privy late that night and steps him into a corner.

“Oh,” Molly says, “Hello.” He’s not surprised – after spending a few years at the carnival with Yasha he thinks he’s lost the ability to be surprised by her at all. Yasha is Yasha, after all, and he knows better than to question why she’s up as late as he is. After all, it could be for the same extremely mundane reason.

“Hello,” she replies. They stand in silence for a few awkward seconds, and then Yasha sighs, crosses her arms over her chest, and steps back a little. “Listen,” she says, “About you and Caleb-“

“You saw that, huh?”

“I did.” She pauses, seeming to recognise the look on Molly’s face, and continues, “Don’t worry, none of the others know you as well as I do. They won’t have noticed anything.”

Molly sighs. “ _Good_ ,” he says, “Caleb doesn’t want them to know yet. Or ever, possibly.”

Yasha doesn’t reply to that, but Molly’s not surprised. Yasha tends to be quite a straightforward person – she says what she has to say and is content to leave it at that.

“About you and Caleb,” she repeats, “I am… I am happy that you are happy. You know I care about you. But if you hurt him, I will _break you_.”

Molly smiles.

“I would expect nothing less of you, love,” he replies, and Yasha smiles back at him, ducks down to press a kiss to the top of Molly’s head.

“I will also hurt him if he hurts you,” she adds.

“I don’t think that’s something you’re going to have to worry about, but thank you all the same.”

“No problem.”

“Good night, Yasha.”

“Good night, Molly.”

\---

Caleb and Molly are the only members of the party at the tavern on a warm summer day when Caleb, sitting reading on his bed with Molly slumped against his back and reading over his shoulder, closes his book and turns to capture Molly’s lips in a kiss.

There is no rhyme or reason to his actions, but he can’t imagine that Molly will mind – even now, several months into this careful relationship of theirs Molly still seems so incredibly happy whenever Caleb moves to touch him first. He’s never complained and has, if anything, only ever encouraged Caleb to kiss and touch and hold him whenever he wants, no matter the situation. Caleb’s still not quite at that point, still too afraid of potentially ruining what they have, but he’s getting… better. Slowly, but surely, he’s getting better at letting himself have what he wants.

Right now, what he wants is to kiss Molly, and so he does.

Beneath his lips he hears Molly give a small, surprised sound. “Caleb,” he murmurs, “Darling.” He breaks the kiss, leaning back a little, and gives Caleb a swift smile. “I’m not complaining, love, but do you mind if I ask what brought this on?”

Caleb lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “I’m not sure,” he says, “I just- I wanted to kiss you.”

“Well, I suppose that’s as good a reason as any,” Molly replies, and Caleb kisses him again, meets his lips with a smile and – carefully – places his book on the small table beside the bed. They lose time in a blur of lazy, sun-soaked kisses, and somewhere in the midst of them they end up in an inelegant, shirtless sprawl on Caleb’s bed, Caleb lying back against the pillows and sheets with Molly’s weight pressing him down into the mattress. Caleb’s hands have found a home twisted up in the sheet and Molly is lavishing kisses across his body, trailing them along his jaw and down his throat and across the expanse of his chest, kissing every tiny burn scar and old injury he can find until it feels like fire is crawling under Caleb’s skin, making him arch up under Molly’s lips and tongue.

“ _Molly_ ,” Caleb gasps, reaching out to wrap a hand around Molly’s horn. It still feels odd to be doing this, still feels like it’s something he shouldn’t be allowed to have, but Molly has assured him time and time again that he really does like it when Caleb takes his hair or his horns and _pulls_ , and so Caleb feels the ridges beneath his fingers and reminds himself that this is okay, that this is allowed, and gives the slightest of tugs. “Molly, _liebling_ …” He’s not even sure where he’s trying to direct Molly to – every kiss laid against his bare chest feels like burning in the best possible way and Caleb just knows that he wants _more_ , wants more and wants it soon and just wants whatever Molly will give him.

Distantly he hears a soft clicking sound from the direction of the door but he ignores it – the door is locked and the rest of the Mighty Nein have left to do… something. Caleb’s not sure what. He’s sure that he _did_ know, once upon a time, but right now all he can think about is the way that Molly’s pressing endless kisses to the freckles that lie scattered across Caleb’s shoulders and arms, his hands brushing warmth across Caleb’s skin wherever he touches.

“Molly,” Caleb says again, the word a soft murmur, and at the sound of his name Molly looks up, smiles soft and kind and loving, and seems to recognise the look in Caleb’s eyes because not even a second passes before he’s crawling up Caleb’s body to settle his full weight over him, slotting their mouths together and making Caleb melt beneath him with a groan.

Caleb loses track of time as they continue to trade kisses like that, slow and sweet as syrup with the afternoon sunlight painting golden across their skin. Everything is slow and hot and _perfect_ and Molly’s hands are so, so warm where they press against Caleb’s waist and skate up and down his sides, fingers slipping beneath the boundary of his breeches but not yet going further. Not until Caleb asks for it.

He thinks he’s ready to.

“Molly,” he says, breaking away from the kiss gasping and breathless, “I want- I- can I-“

There’s no full sentences, no real questions, but Molly knows what Caleb’s trying to say. “Do you want to touch me?” he asks, his words barely more than a murmur, and Caleb nods desperately beneath him, his hands already fiddling with the buckle of Molly’s belt.

“I- _ja_ , Molly, _bitte_ , can I?”

“Can you ask for it, love?”

“I-“ There’s a pause, and then Caleb shakes his head. He knows he doesn’t have the right to be touching Molly as he is, knows that he is too burned and scarred and ugly to be allowed anywhere near someone as beautiful as Molly, but he also knows that Molly doesn’t see it that way.

“Caleb,” Molly says, and Caleb’s eyes flutter open because _oh_ , but he recognises that undercurrent of command in Molly’s voice. “Ask me, love.”

Caleb has never been able to ignore Molly’s orders, not even with his brain insistently reminding him that he doesn’t deserve any of this.

“Please,” he whispers, “Please, Molly, can I touch you?”

Molly smiles at him, and ducks his head to kiss Caleb quick and hot and filthy. “Of course, love,” he murmurs, “Wherever you want.”

_Wherever you want_.

There’s too many options to choose from, and so Caleb starts simple. He runs his hand down the smooth skin of Molly’s side, feels fabric silky-soft beneath his fingers, and when he grips Molly’s ass and uses the contact to pull their hips together Molly groans into Caleb’s mouth and it’s the best thing Caleb’s ever fucking heard.

“ _Caleb,_ ” Molly murmurs, the word muffled between them, “That’s my good boy.”

It’s only thanks to the fact that he’s already stained crimson across his face and chest that Caleb doesn’t blush harder. He tilts his head, nipping a little at Molly’s lips, and Molly gasps above him, seemingly delighted by this sudden show of boldness.

“ _Oh_ ,” he gasps, “Feeling brave today, love?”

Caleb groans. He _is_ , and he doesn’t know why, and he doesn’t want to look into it too far in case this sudden bout of bravery decides to up and leave and would rather get back to something much, _much_ more pressing and immediate.

“Stop talking and kiss me,” Caleb says impatiently, and Molly, Gods bless him, does. He ducks his head and captures Caleb’s lips in a burning kiss, hot and heavy and insistent, and Caleb feels warmth flooding through his veins when Molly’s hand skates over his chest again, following the path his lips left only minutes before. Caleb whines beneath him, moaning softly in the back of his throat, and arcs his body up to press as close to Molly as he possibly can, delighting at the touch of skin upon skin, and he only pulls away from Molly when he hears a soft _click_ from the direction of the door.

“Caleb?” comes a quiet voice, followed by the soft creaking of hinges. “I hope I’m not disturbing you, I just left my _agh!_ ”

Oh, _fuck_.

Caleb scrambles away from Molly before he’s even entirely aware of his own actions, scurrying backwards on the bed and putting as much distance between the two of them as possible. He knows it’s pointless, knows that Nott has already seen more than enough incriminating evidence in the scant half-second she had to look at them but he does it all the same.

“Nott!” he exclaims, and sees Molly likewise shuffling away on the other side of the bed. “I- you- we-“

“No!” Nott says immediately, spinning around and covering her eyes. “I’m not looking! I’m not looking! I’m not looking and I’m not saying anything until you both put your shirts back on!”

There’s a few minutes of hurried shuffling as Caleb and Molly relocate their shirts – Caleb’s, somehow, has found a new home under the bed, and he has to pause to brush a few balls of dust off it before he tugs it back on. From the look that Molly gives him he strongly suspects that he missed some of them, and a moment later his suspicions are confirmed when Molly leans forwards and plucks some dust from his hair.

“Thank you,” Caleb whispers, and Molly smiles at him.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies, and looks like he’s about to say more when Nott clears her throat and they both freeze.

“You better be dressed,” she warns them, “Because I’m about to turn around…”

They are now, thankfully – when Nott turns fully to face them they’re both covered up, though Caleb is sure that there’s nothing he could do to hide the embarrassed flush that’s covering him from head to shoulders. She glances between them, yellow eyes narrowed slightly, and raises an eyebrow.

“So?” she asks, and Caleb shuffles awkwardly in place.

“I should, ah, I should probably…” Molly says from beside him, and Caleb turns and catches his eye, sees the way he keeps glancing towards the door, and nods.

“I’ll talk to Nott,” Caleb says quietly, and Molly’s face breaks into a relieved grin.

“Thank you,” he says, gratitude evident in his voice, and after pressing a fleeting kiss to Caleb’s lips he stands and turns and walks swiftly to the door. Nott, still standing beside it, lets him pass with a suspicious look.

“I’m going to talk to you afterwards!” she calls after him, and Caleb hears Molly laugh from down the hallway.

“I would expect nothing less!” he calls back.

The door swings shut behind him, latching itself with a _click_ , and, for a moment, there is silence.

Nott and Caleb look at each other.

“So…” Nott says, breaking the stillness of the air, “This, uh- this was-“

“Unexpected?” Caleb suggests and Nott nods, giving Caleb a slight smile. Caleb gives a faint smile of his back for a moment before letting it drop. “I’m sorry,” he says, “That you, um, that you had to see… that…”

“No, no!” Nott replies, shaking her head a bit, “I should have- I should’ve knocked, I don’t- I don’t know everything you get up to, I know that. It’s not your fault, you didn’t know I was here.”

It’s a fair point. “Why _are_ you here?” Caleb asks, “What are you doing back? We thought you had all gone to Pumat’s.”

“Oh,” Nott says, and she looks down at her feet, shuffling them a little on the scuffed wooden planks. “I forgot my key… I came back to get it, I thought I’d just, y’know, nip in and out before you even noticed I was here.”

“But how did you get in? We- we locked the door.”

Nott doesn’t look up from the floor. “I picked it,” she admitted, “I thought you were asleep, I thought you wouldn’t mind if I let myself in and I was only going to be a minute and-“

“It is not your fault,” Caleb cuts in, “You didn’t- you weren’t to know that anything was… happening.”

There’s a pause.

“So this isn’t the first time you and Molly have…” Nott begins and Caleb quickly shakes his head.

“No,” he says, “No, this is, um- this has been happening for, ah, for a while now.”

“Okay,” Nott says quietly and then looks back up at him, her yellow eyes unusually serious even for her. “Are you happy?” she asks, and Caleb feels himself starting to smile.

“Yes,” he says simply, and Nott smiles back at him.

“Good, good. If he hurts you, I _will_ kill him.”

“I know you will, _schatz_.”

Nott smiles. “Do the others know yet?” she asks, and Caleb’s smile falls immediately as he shakes his head.

“No. No, they don’t.”

“None of them?”

“To the best of my knowledge, only you do.” He pauses. “And Yasha, but, uh, she has not spoken to me. Only to Molly.”

“Me and Yasha,” Nott muses, “The only ones who know.”

“The only ones who _can_ know,” Caleb says, and he drops to the floor in front of her, crouching down to be at her eye level. “Nott,” he says, soft and urgent, “I know this is- I know this is unexpected, and unusual, but please, _please_ do not tell any of the others. I would not- I am not ready for that.” He hooks a finger beneath her chin, lifts her head to look her square in the eye; Caleb has never been a fan of eye-contact but right now he feels that it is necessary. “ _Please_ ,” he says again, “Please do not tell any of the others what you saw. None of them. Not Beau or Jester of Fjord or- or _anyone_.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“Okay,” Nott says quietly, “I won’t. I promise.”

Caleb smiles at her, and presses a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you, _schatz_.”

“On one condition.”

“What?”

Nott steps back, crossing her arms over her chest. “Promise me that I will never, _ever_ , have to walk in on you having sex again.”

Caleb feels the blush settle burning-red across his face. “…I promise.”

\---

Fjord steps in front of Molly late one night just as he’s about to slip out of the door and pad down the hallway to join Caleb in bed. Ever since Nott discovered them it’s become almost a regular thing that they do – Nott will, at some unplanned point in the week, ask Beau and Jester if they want to have a slumber party of sorts, and after Jester inevitably agrees Molly will – with Nott’s knowledge – use her absence for a chance to spend some quality time with Caleb. He’s sure he can imagine what Nott thinks they get up to when she’s not there, but he feels she might be surprised that what she’s imagining is actually a much rarer event than she may think. Caleb is still Caleb, after all, and he still… struggles. Even now, even after endless, uncountable instances of reassurance and comfort and everything Molly can do to show him that it’s okay, that he’s loved, that he’s allowed to want and to have these things, Caleb still struggles to accept it. But that’s okay. Molly will wait as long as he needs to.

Which means, instead, that they spend a lot of time just cuddling. Molly’s been an affectionate person for as long as he can remember (which is, admittedly, not a particularly long time), but even he’d been surprised to discover just how cuddly and affectionate Caleb really is behind closed doors. There’s limits to it, of course, and certain things that Molly has to be careful about – Caleb will, for example, flinch away from and reject almost any touch that he’s not expecting, even if it’s as small as Molly reaching out to touch him on the shoulder – but, together, they’re figuring things out.

And it’s _nice_. It’s just… nice. It’s nice to have this; it’s nice to be able to slip down the darkened hallway to Caleb’s room and knock quietly on the door and have it opened by a beautiful, sleep-soft Caleb, and greet him with a kiss and feel him relax into it and then join him under the warm blankets of his bed, holding him close and giving him as much affection and comfort and love as he needs. It’s nice. It makes Molly feel nice. It makes Caleb feel nice and, really, that’s all that matters.

Molly’s already smiling at the thought of it. He’s not sure when he became such a sap over one dirty wizard, but he really, _really_ doesn’t mind. At least now, in the dark, there’s no one there to see it.

Which is what he thinks right up until the moment when Fjord clears his throat and looms out of the shadows besides the door, and Molly very nearly has a small heart attack.

“ _Gods_ ,” he says once he finally manages to get his breath back, “You know, you’re not half sneaky when you really try to be.”

Fjord doesn’t say anything.

Molly quirks an eyebrow at him. “No comment?” he asks, and then rolls his eyes when Fjord continues to remain resolutely silent. Great. It’s going to be one of _those_ conversations. “Can I help you?” he asks eventually, and waits a few silent seconds until Fjord shifts a little from side to side and _finally_ actually speaks.

“In a manner of speaking,” Fjord replies, all stone-faced and deadly serious, and Molly sighs.

“Fine,” he says, “What do you need?”

“Mind telling me what has you up and about so late?”

“Oh, you know,” Molly replies with a shrug, “Just answering the call of nature.”

“Right,” Fjord replies, “I don’t suppose this’d be the same call of nature that’s kept you from returnin’ to our room on more than one occasion? The same one that means you’ve come down to breakfast mighty close after Caleb has a few times?”

Molly says nothing. He knows his poker face is incredible. Fjord’s getting nothing from him.

“Look, Molly,” Fjord says, and he sighs, “I’m not a stupid man. I’m not the smartest, not around the likes of Caleb, but I’m not stupid either and I know what I’ve been seeing. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think it’s any coincidence that you answer the call of nature in the middle of night almost exclusively when Nott’s spendin’ the night with Jester and Beau.”

Molly continues to stay silent.

“And I’m not blind either,” Fjord continues, “I’ve seen how you look at Caleb. And I’ve seen how he looks at you. There’s _something_ there, I know it, and I’d really rather we not have any secrets in the group right now. Even if it’s just so that we know where to find you if anything were to happen at night.”

“…You cornered me to confirm that I’m sleeping with Caleb for _safety’s sake_?” Molly asks, and Fjord nods.

“Yeah, I just- y’know, figured it’d be sensible-“ He freezes suddenly, eyes widening as the realisation of Molly’s confirmation hits him, and Molly grins.

“And the penny drops,” Molly mutters.

“So you are-“

“I mean, for safety’s sake, I suppose you _must_ know. After all, it took you long enough to notice,” Molly quips, and Fjord’s eyes somehow widen even further.

“I mean,” he says, “I’m not- when did this start, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“...A while ago.” He’s not about to go telling Fjord everything. Not when he doesn’t know how much Caleb is willing to share with others, giving how cagey he’s been about it all so far.

“Any clarification on that?”

“Mm, no.”

Fjord nods. “Alright,” he says, “I suppose I can deal with that. It’s not my business.”

Molly doesn’t comment on that. After all, Fjord’s not wrong.

“Look,” Fjord says, stepping in closer. Molly doesn’t take a step back, doesn’t let himself be cowed even when Fjord is quite literally towering over him. He just tilts his head back, narrows his eyes, and stares right back at Fjord. “All I’m saying,” Fjord continues, “Is that, y’know, if this is what’s happening, then it’s- well-“ He trails off into silence, lifting a hand to rub awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Aw, dang,” he mutters, and turns his gaze back to Molly. Molly’s delighted to see that Fjord actually seems to be looking more than a little uncomfortable now. “I’m just saying, the two of you be safe, alright?” he finishes, and Molly grins.

“Oh,” he replies, “Don’t you worry about that. We’re not going to be catching anything nasty from each other, I can _promise_ you that much.”

“Good,” Fjord mumbles. He can’t seem to meet Molly’s eyes. “Good, that’s- that’s good…”

“If it’s any consolation I can _assure_ you that what I did to my dick at the hospital was _purely_ make-up based. Wasn’t even based in reality. I’ve never seen a dick look that awful before, my own or anyone else’s.”

Fjord swallows. “Good,” he says again.

Molly grins wider. This is _fun_.

“And,” he continues, “Rest assured that if anything unpleasant or untoward _does_ happen, you’ll be the first to know.”

“I don’t- I don’t really think you need to tell me all that.”

“But you seemed so concerned about us! I wouldn’t want to keep you out of the loop.”

“Molly, I- I would rather not know all the intimate details, if it’s all the same to you.”

Molly shrugs. “I mean, you practically asked.”

Fjord sighs, and waves a hand in the direction of the door. “Just go,” he mutters, and Molly beams at him. “Go have your fun doing whatever it is you- no, you know what, don’t tell me.”

Molly shuts his mouth. Fjord sighs again.

“Go,” he repeats, and Molly nods and spins on his heel, turning back towards the door.

“Goodnight!” he calls cheerfully over his shoulder, and he hears Fjord grumble something under his breath as he reaches out to unlatch the door. The _click_ of the latch is unexpectedly loud in the still and silent night air, but for once it’s almost masked by Fjord’s quiet shuffling as he turns to head back into his own bed.

“Be good to him,” Fjord calls out unexpectedly when Molly’s one step outside the door, and Molly freezes, turning slowly to look at where Fjord’s sitting on his bed. “He’s been through enough as it is.”

“I know,” Molly says softly after a long pause. “I’ll take care of him. I promise.”

\---

Beau finds them pressed against the wall of an alley one day, Caleb’s back up against the filthy brickwork with Molly’s mouth firmly affixed to his throat.

“Aw, _jeez_!” she yells, throwing her hands up as she turns neatly on the spot and leaves, the sound echoing slightly in the enclosed space. “ _Seriously_ , guys? In _public?_ ”

There’s no time for a rebuttal – by the time Molly’s looked up from Caleb’s neck Beau’s already gone, though they can hear her disgruntled mutterings for a while longer. The both pause for a moment, neither of them quite yet willing to speak, and when the last of Beau grumblings have faded into the background noise of the city Molly lifts his head from Caleb’s throat, looking at Caleb with what would be a guilty expression if he didn’t look so damn _smug_.

“Oops,” he says, “Guess the cat’s out of the bag on that one.”

Caleb groans, and drops his head to press his forehead against Molly’s shoulder.

“Molly,” he groans, “We can’t- she- I didn’t want anyone else to know…”

“I know,” Molly replies instantly, “I know, love.” He lifts one hand, settling it at the back of Caleb’s head and starts carding his fingers through Caleb’s hair, his other hand moving to settle warm and comforting on Caleb’s waist. His nails scratch lightly across Caleb’s scalp and Caleb feels himself softening under the contact, his muscles losing some of their tenseness in the wake of this unwanted discovery. “It’s okay,” Molly says, his words barely more than a murmur, “Beau might be an asshole but she’s not a snitch – she won’t tell the others unless she knows we’re okay with it.”

“But now she _knows_ …”

“She does,” Molly agrees, “But it’ll be okay.”

Silence.

“Caleb?”

There’s a soft hum from the area near his neck, and Molly knows Caleb well enough to read it as acknowledgement.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

Another hum.

“Trust me to trust Beau. She won’t tell the others, love. She knows better than that.”

Caleb shifts a little and after a moment his head lifts, his eyes meeting Molly’s. “I know,” he says quietly, “I’m just- I…”

Molly stays quiet, letting the silence hang between them. Caleb will fill it eventually, he knows that much – he just needs the time to figure out how best to say what’s in his head. He needs time to figure out what’s _in_ his head.

“This is _ours_ ,” Caleb says eventually, his words almost inaudible, and something about the way he says it makes Molly’s heart twist. “It is- this is ours, and only ours. I do not want to have to share it… I do not wish to be- to be an _exhibit_.”

Molly knows Caleb well enough to know the words he’s not saying. He knows Caleb, knows how he hates being the centre of attention, knows how he dislikes feeling the weight of people’s focus on him for any reason, and it’s almost painfully clear that, in Caleb’s mind, the rest of the party discovering the relationship between them will result in those exact things that he hates.

Molly doesn’t deny it. Much as he hates it, knowing how uncomfortable it’ll make Caleb, he knows that, one day, there will be questions for them.

But not today.

“You’ll never have to share this,” he murmurs, and turns his head to press a kiss to Caleb’s temple, “Never, darling. I promise. This is ours.” He kisses Caleb’s temple again, and then shifts to press a kiss to Caleb’s lips, feeling Caleb relax into it a moment later. “It’s okay.” Another kiss, and Molly leans back, resting both hands on Caleb’s shoulders. “ _We’ll_ be okay,” he adds, and when Caleb looks up and gives him a small, uncertain smile, Molly smiles back.

“Okay,” Caleb says softly, and Molly kisses him again for it.

“Okay,” he repeats. “Now come on, we were meant to be looking for spellbooks before _someone_ dragged us into an alley.”

“You did the dragging,” Caleb replies, but he’s smiling a little more now, already seeming calmer.

“Mm, but you did the kissing. We’re both at fault here.” Molly grins, and when Caleb smiles back he reaches out, takes Caleb’s hand, and leads him back onto the main road.

True to Molly’s prediction Beau doesn’t ask them anything when they meet up with her and the rest of the Mighty Nein at the tavern two hours later. She just looks at them, raises an eyebrow, and glances pointedly at where Caleb’s scarf is covering up a blossoming love bite.

Caleb can’t look at her for the rest of the evening.

\---

Jester is the last to find out, and when she does it’s _awful_.

Ever since the incident with Beau Caleb had insisted that they be more careful – he knows that the rest of the party knows what’s happening between him and Molly by now, knows that they have no reason to still be keeping this a secret, but even now the thought of having to face their stares, of knowing what they’re all thinking about when he joins them for breakfast twenty minutes late with Molly in tow, of knowing that _they_ know and are aware of this flawed, perfect thing that Caleb has built with Molly is…

It’s terrifying.

He’s terrified.

He doesn’t want them to know. If the universe had worked out how he wanted none of them would ever have known about him and Molly and they never _would_ , and he knows it’s a ridiculous and foolish and completely infeasible thing to wish for but he wishes for it all the same. What he has with Molly is _his_ , and his alone, and Caleb has no qualms about admitting that he is a greedy and jealous man because he _is_. He must be. He does not deserve this in any way, but while he has it he will cling to it with everything that he can.

The party have been better with the news than he had thought they would be, though. Admittedly, he’s quite sure that those who know are unaware that the others also know, but even then there’s been far fewer late-night questionings than he’d expected. Beau hadn’t followed up on what she saw and even Nott had had only a few questions for him to sate her curiosity. For the most part they seem happy that he’s happy and it’s…

Well, it’s not quite unexpected. But it’s strange. It’s _nice_.

He’s sitting in a tavern with the rest of the party, Molly beside him and a mug of ale before him and conversation is flying back and forth and he’s relaxed and comfortable and there is coin in his purse and no awkward questions being asked and it’s just _nice_.

Caleb smiles to himself, lifts the mug of ale to his lips, and almost immediately someone speaks to him and he’s snapped out of his trance.

“Caleb,” Jester says suddenly, her voice cutting clear over the sound of everyone else talking, and Caleb turns to look at her without thinking.

“ _Ja_?” he asks, putting the mug back down, “What is it?”

“What’s that on your neck? Are you injured?”

Caleb frowns, and lifts a hand to where she’s indicating. “No,” he says, “No, I’m fine. Why?”

“You have a bruise there, like, a _big_ one.” Jester lifts her hand, tapping against the curve of her collarbone. “Right here.”

Oh.

_Oh_.

Caleb knows exactly what she’s talking about now. He shifts his hand a little, presses down, and feels the soft burst of hot pain radiating out from the truly impressive hickey that Molly had left on his neck a few nights ago. Molly’s normally careful with where he places them, knowing how strongly Caleb wants to keep this a secret, and under normal circumstances this one would be safely hidden away beneath Caleb’s coat and scarf, but the inn is warm and he’d started to overheat and so he’d loosened his scarf and opened his coat without a second thought and now he is paying the price for his lack of forethought. They’re normally careful with any marks they leave to avoid this exact sort of situation – their relationship is no longer an entirely secret thing but the fear of discovery, of _judgement_ , of stares and secretive looks still prickles underneath Caleb’s skin and Caleb _knows_ that the best route to take would be to simply ask Molly not to mark him at all but…

But he likes it. He really, _really_ likes it. The bruises are a real, tangible reminder that Molly likes him. That Molly _wants_ him. That Molly has seen him and seen his flaws and his insecurities and his awful, broken places and wants him all the same. That Molly doesn’t care about the terrible things that he has done in the past.

That Molly loves him.

Caleb presses down on the bruise again, feels the dull throb of pain, and smiles to himself.

“It’s okay,” he says softly, glancing back over at Jester, “It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t need healing.”

“You should let me heal it anyway though,” she says, “I don’t want you _dying_ on us because you’re even weaker than normal because of some silly _bruise_.”

“It’s fine, really.”

“You don’t even have to use a health potion, I still have enough magic to heal it for you.”

“No, thank you,” he says and he’s fumbling, he’s ruining this and he _doesn’t know what to say_ , “I- Do not waste your magic on me, I’m fine, it doesn’t matter.”

“Pfft,” Jester replies, waving a hand, “It is only a little spell, Caleb, and we’re not _doing_ anything. It’s not like I have to save my magic for anything-“

“Jester,” Fjord says quietly, cutting her off mid-ramble, “I think that- I think that, uh, that might be a bruise that Caleb wants to keep, if you catch my drift.”

Caleb can feel himself flushing. He wants to draw the collar of his coat higher, wants to tug his scarf closer around his throat to hide the mark that Molly left, but there is no point in doing that now and he knows that any action he makes will only make him look guiltier. Guiltier of _what_ he’s not sure, but he’s being stared at enough as it is – he doesn’t want to make things worse by having Jester stare at something he’s actively trying to hide.

So he sits still, and doesn’t look her in the eye, and tries not to squirm under her scrutiny.

“Caleb,” she says eventually, and he forces himself to look over at her even as he feels the blush crawling up his cheeks. “Is that a _hickey_?”

Caleb doesn’t say anything, but he’s sure the way he immediately glances away speaks volumes. He can just about see Molly smiling beside him out of the corner of his eye, and a moment later he feels Molly’s hand settle on his thigh near the knee, warm and comforting.

Jester blinks at him.

“Oh my _God_ ,” she says, dropping her voice into a hiss as she leans forwards across the table, grinning widely, “It _is_ , it _is_ a hickey! Caleb, are you having _sex_?”

He can’t keep quiet at that. “Obviously,” he mutters quietly, but he seems to forget how good Jester’s hearing is because she gasps immediately and claps her hands over her mouth.

“ _Caleb!”_ she says, the sound muffled, but a moment later she drops her hands and leans in even closer. Caleb instinctively leans back. There’s only a couple of people he’s comfortable having that far in his personal bubble, and Jester, lovely though she is, is not one of them.

“Who was it?” she asks, “Did you go to a brothel?”

Caleb frowns, and shakes his head before he can remember not to. “No, no, it was not a brothel…”

“Then who? And _when?_ Caleb, I’m not going to judge you for any of this, my mom’s the Ruby of the Sea, I don’t _care_ who you have sex with, I just want to know.” She pauses, and seems to notice the deeply uncomfortable look on Caleb’s face because when she speaks again her tone is… softer. “Are you being careful? Are you being safe?”

Caleb coughs. “Fjord, uh, Fjord saw to that,” he mumbles, and Jester gasps and grins wider.

“You are sleeping with _Fjord_?” she says, her voice still rising in pitch, and Caleb can’t think of what else to say, what else to _do_ , so he turns and looks at Molly with a look in his eyes that says, as clearly as any words, _Help me_.

And Molly, bless him, does.

He leans forwards, moving his hand from Caleb’s knee to instead wrap it around Caleb’s shoulders, and Caleb can’t help but lean into it, pressing a little closer against Molly’s side as he averts his gaze from everyone, staring intently at the far side of the tavern.

“He’s _definitely_ not sleeping with Fjord,” Molly says, and Caleb knows the exact grin he can hear in Molly’s voice. He’s seen it enough times. “At least, not that I’m aware of. Fjord, are you aware of our wizard making any moves on you?”

Caleb doesn’t look, but he can hear Fjord splutter.

“I- I’m definitely _not_ ,” he says eventually, and Molly shakes against Caleb’s side in suppressed laughter. Caleb can’t hold back the smile that creeps over his face at that – it is amusing, he won’t deny it, and with Molly still pressed close and warm against his side, his arm a heavy, reassuring weight over Caleb’s shoulders, he feels… safe.

He’s still nervous, undeniably so – he never wanted this situation to even arise, never wanted to have to explain to the party that he and Molly had become an item of sorts, and even though he _knows_ that they won’t care, that they won’t mind, that if they do look at him it will not be with judgement for having this thing he is not supposed to have, but the part of his brain that runs on jack-rabbit fear is loud and insistent and even now Caleb is so, so afraid.

He presses closer to Molly’s side, curls a hand in the fabric of his coat, and breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth to calm his racing heart. He is safe. _He is safe_. He is safe and secure and he knows it, knows that he can trust these people, and he repeats the mantra to himself a few times until the terrified voices in his head quieten and subside and leaving him feeling safe enough to speak for once.

“I have not been sleeping with Fjord,” he says quietly, but it’s enough for everyone else at the table to fall silent immediately. He swallows, his throat dry, and forces himself to continue even with the anxiety and fear that’s set to crawling through his veins at the sudden silence. “Only with this one here,” he continues, and swings his body to nudge against Molly’s side. “Though it is, uh, more than that.” His words are barely more than a whisper now. “I rather like him…”

“ _Awww_ ,” Jester says immediately, clapping her face between her hands, “That is so _cute_!”

Caleb hardly hears her; Molly shifts a little against his side, his arm wrapping tighter about Caleb’s shoulder, and after a moment it loosens and Caleb feels more than he sees Molly turn to face him.

“Caleb,” Molly says softly, and Caleb turns to look at him, sees the soft adoration in his eyes and feels his heart melt at the warmth of it. “I rather like you too.”

“Oh,” Caleb says, and he blinks before breaking into a grin. It’s not a big one, not by many people’s standards, but Molly knows him and knows that, for Caleb, this is almost as good as it’s going to get. “Well I, uh- that is good to hear.”

It shouldn’t feel like new knowledge but it does – Caleb has never liked to get his hopes up and even with this, even with all the affection and pet-names and gentleness that Molly presented to him he had still worried, somewhere in the burning, shadowed edges at the back of his mind, that it wouldn’t last. That Molly would grow tired of him. That Molly had never truly cared for him to begin with, that all of this was happening out of some misplaced sense of pity.

That none of it was _real_.

But Caleb can see the look in Molly’s eyes and he is not a stupid man. He is a nervous man, yes, and an anxious man and a fearful man and a greedy man at times, but he is not stupid. He can see the look in Molly’s eyes. He knows what it means.

_I love you,_ Caleb thinks, and leans forwards to press his lips to Molly’s in a ghost of a kiss. “ _Liebling_ ,” he whispers, quiet enough that only Molly can hear him, and feels Molly smiling beneath his lips.

From across the table, he thinks he hears Jester cooing; when he looks up he sees her leaning as far across the table as she can, her head propped up on her hands. “Caleb?” she says, her voice a sing-song, “Are you happy?”

Caleb doesn’t have to think to reply. “ _Ja_ ,” he says, and knows that he is still smiling slightly. “ _Ja_ , I am. Very happy.”

Jester smiles at him. “You _should_ be happy,” she says, “You always seem so sad and that makes _me_ sad.”

“I am- I’m sorry about that?” He doesn’t mean for it to sound like a question but it does anyway. Jester doesn’t seem to mind though; she flaps a hand, as if waving the tentative question away.

“Don’t be,” she says, “This is a good thing! I mean, like, _finally._ Gods, Caleb, you were pining over Molly for _months_ , it was so _sad_ , I wanted to just- to just smush your faces together and get you to kiss. You kept staring at him and it was so _obvious_ -“

“But you didn’t notice when this started?” Caleb asks, unable to stop himself.

“ _No!”_ Jester says, “You kept looking at him! All the time! Nothing _changed!_ And you still always look so sad and dirty. I thought that once you got with Molly that he would clean you up but obviously _not_.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Molly says, the smirk audible in his voice, and from the corner of his eye Caleb sees him turn to look at him. “I don’t mind things being a bit filthy.”

Caleb squeezes his eyes shut, huffs a sigh through his nose, and turns to hide his flushing face against Mollymauk’s neck.

When they leave the main room of the tavern to go to bed several hours later Caleb reaches out and takes Molly’s hand in front of the rest of the party, and the smile he gets from Molly in return is the biggest and warmest he’s ever seen.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! If you have any prompts or requests for me please do send me a message over at my [tumblr](https://crunchywrites.tumblr.com/ask) ^-^
> 
> This is also a little thanks to my wonderful beta [Naluh](https://morstan.tumblr.com/) for for catching all my mistakes and generally cheering me on x


End file.
